


A Detour in Defiance

by novamare



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Car Sex, Fluff, Foot Fetish, Hannibal is one step away from Daddy, M/M, Smut, Will is kinda bratty, mostly unintentional
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-06 02:16:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19053223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novamare/pseuds/novamare
Summary: Will and Hannibal are taking a road trip to Chicago, and in the middle of nowhere, a restless Will starts to get frisky.





	A Detour in Defiance

Will propped his bare feet up on the dashboard of Hannibal’s car. He watched the flat fields of middle America sweep along, looking basically the same now as they had an hour back and an hour before that. Hannibal had taken the time to explain, in all the great and learned detail as usual, that patches in one shade of green would become soybeans, and patches in another but nearly indistinguishable shade of green would become corn. That seed of knowledge bloomed into a long and mostly one-sided discussion of crop rotation, at the end of which Will had only one unanswered question: “How much further is it?”

Frowning, Hannibal reached out to swat at Will’s thigh. “Don’t put your feet up there. The leather will soak up the scents.” Just then, they passed a green roadsign that declared another 215 miles to Chicago.

They took the Bentley this time, although only after fifteen minutes of bickering about gas milage and ride comfort. Will had lost quite decisively, but Hannibal had played dirty. Will bit his lip as he remembered the look his partner had given him, a dangerously crooked smirk, a snaggletoothed dare to fight back. Of course, Will _had_ fought back—what pleasures were there left in life if not to tease one’s lover?—and had found himself quickly pinned against the inside of the front door with the cool tip of the Bentley’s key pressing up into the underside of his jaw. It was a wildly ignoble move, but Hannibal must have known how it would make Will’s breath hitch and his knees falter under his weight.

Will grinned, letting his knees fall open so he could wriggle and clench his toes against the smooth grain of the leather. “Are you saying my feet stink, Mr. Washes My Socks In Lavender Oil?”

“That’s Dr. Washes Your Socks In Lavender Oil, thank you. I worked hard for my title.”

With a snort, Will slid his left foot across the dashboard in Hannibal’s direction, until his calf brushed against Hannibal’s right hand on the steering wheel. Driving one-handed, Hannibal scooped up Will’s ankle and moved his foot to rest on his own thigh. Wool could be dry-cleaned, at least. Hannibal rested his hand on the inside of Will’s ankle.

An overhead sign gave a mile to an exit in Defiance, Ohio, and Will decided it was a literal manifestation of the signs that people tended to beg God for. Little did they know, one needed only to go on an unnecessarily long road trip with one’s partner.

Jack would be irritated they were late, especially since Will already had to bargain with his boss to let them drive rather than fly. The final justification was that the gas and mileage would be cheaper than flights and a rental car that Hannibal would inevitably have some minor complaint about. If there was anything Jack liked, besides solving cases and sneaking a finger of whiskey at his desk, it was saving the FBI a buck or two. Will had a bet with Beverly that the Bureau gave Jack a bonus for staying under budget—and with as much as he’d blown on Hannibal’s rates in the beginning, anything helped. And anyway, Will had made Jack wait for less before.

“Hey, take this exit,” Will said, turning his body in his seat so he could inch his toes up until they brushed against Hannibal’s crotch. The dare earned him a short, blank look out of the corner of Hannibal’s eyes. Angling his ankle to put a light pressure on Hannibal’s cock, Will gave his best and most pitiful puppy dog eyes. “Come on, I have to piss.”

Hannibal’s jaw clenched, and Will grinned brightly as the quiet, steady click of a turn signal filled the Bentley’s cab.

A small thicket of gas stations popped up on either side of the road, and as Hannibal was about to turn into the first one, Will pointed to the bridge not far down the road and said, “Wait, go up a bit. Turn just short of the river.”

“I thought you needed the bathroom?” Hannibal’s voice was a little darker than before, and Will recognized that variation on his lover’s accent, somewhere between arousal and frustration.

A shiver ran from Will’s shoulders to his feet as he tried to find some logical justification other than the very real truth that he wanted nothing more than to have Hannibal inside him. Wiggling his toes against the bulge in Hannibal’s trousers, Will shrugged and said, “Gas station bathrooms stink.”

It must have been enough—or perhaps Hannibal didn’t need much convincing—because they passed the gas stations and a small grocery store before turning north on a narrow country road that tracked parallel to a river that was probably closer to a creek. Up a mile or so, the road opened into a new development of identical houses and colorful, childproofed playgrounds, but before that, there was an overgrown picnic ground between the road and the river. Hannibal pulled the Bentley into a gravel parking area, which kicked up dust and left the branches of an old oak shivering as a flock of flycatchers leapt into the sky. But behind the trees, they were mostly hidden from the road.

Will bent over himself to press a kiss against Hannibal’s cheek as he said, “I lied. I don’t have to piss.”

Hannibal cut the engine and pulled the key out of the ignition, turning to Will to kiss him properly. Will moaned against Hannibal’s lips, feeling the burn in his hamstrings from the stretch. His breath caught as, for the second time that day, the edge of a car key ghosted across the tender spots at his throat, skating over the bump of his Adam’s apple. Swallowing heavily, Will pressed into the cool edge until it disappeared, replaced by the warmth of his lover’s lips tracing down where the metal had been.

Murmuring Hannibal’s name, Will reached out to card his fingers through his partner’s hair, holding his head close while the stretch began to ache in his lower back. He used to be more limber, he thought, gritting his teeth against the pain out of sheer determination not to admit defeat and give up what he wanted. If he did, he worried Hannibal might smirk and start driving again. Then Will would be horny and unsatisfied all the way to Chicago, where he’d have to face Jack and pretend he wouldn’t rather be bent over a hotel bathroom counter with a hard cock at his back. He’d have to visit a crime scene and be civil and do anything other than go to his knees in a custodial closet. Even the thought of it made him sulky, so Will powered through the pain, clutching the back of Hannibal’s neck.

“Take your pants off,” Hannibal said, pulling away from Will’s neck and unlocking the car’s doors. Will bit his lip and pulled his leg back to his seat as Hannibal opened the door and stepped out onto the gravel, slipping out of his suit coat and vest, tossing them in the driver seat. All that remained were the straps of his suspenders over a pale green and beautifully wrinkled broadcloth shirt and the silk tie—a loud paisley, naturally—that Will had gotten him for their first anniversary.

As Hannibal closed the door behind him, Will wrestled with the waistband of his chinos, all the while watching Hannibal walk in front of the car and around to the passenger side door. When the door opened, a breeze hit Will’s flushed cheeks, making the spring warmth feel cooler than it was. Will wriggled out of his pants, letting the fabric fall into a crumple on top of his boots and socks in the footwell, and Hannibal glanced up over the top of the car toward the road, where a minivan sped past none the wiser.

Satisfied they were uninterrupted, Hannibal looked down at Will and said, “Is this what you wanted, Will? Car sex in the middle of nowhere, Ohio?”

“I didn’t much care where. But it _is_ why I wanted to take the Volvo,” Will said, reaching out to grip Hannibal’s hips and pull him closer. “More room in the back.” He grinned up at his lover as he began fiddling with the front buttons of Hannibal’s suspenders and trying not to get distracted by the large bulge just below.

Hannibal’s lips pulled up into a half smile, pulling the straps of his suspenders aside as Will finally managed to unbutton them. “Why didn’t you say?”

Will snorted as he unbuttoned his partner’s trousers and pulled them down until Hannibal’s handsome cock emerged. “We were already going to be late,” Will said, taking Hannibal in his hand and brushing his thumb over the head of his cock. He bent forward—in a more comfortable position this time—and pressed a kiss to Hannibal’s shaft before taking him in his mouth in one long plunge.

A hand settled in his curls, and Hannibal’s voice was tense as he said, “You’ll have to settle for the Bentley, then.”

As with nearly everything Will had to “settle” for in his relationship with Hannibal, this was hardly a burden. Will’s tongue swirled around the head of Hannibal’s cock as he wrapped his hand around the remaining shaft, sucking and stroking in time. Will savored the taste of his lover, which was simultaneously bitter and heavenly, and if he hadn’t been so intent on having Hannibal inside him in other ways, he would have been perfectly happy to swallow down all he could get.

But as it was, Will was painfully hard himself, and his core clenched in desire every time Hannibal’s hand shifted in his hair. He pulled back with a wet, sloppy pop that left his partner’s cock dripping saliva, and said, “It’s not car sex if you’re not in the car, you know.”

The intensity with which Hannibal stared at him then—a stare that Will once might have misinterpreted as a glare, although now he could see the arousal, the vigor, in his lover’s dark eyes—made Will moan without even being touched. Hannibal crouched and stole a kiss as he reached between Will’s legs for the adjustment knobs on the car’s seat. Will couldn’t help the tiny flinch as his seat began to move backward underneath him, until he was nearly sitting in the back seat. Then the back rest began to recline, and he reached out desperately for something to hold onto before he fell.

He managed to grab Hannibal’s tie, pulling his lover onto him with a jerk as he laid back in his seat. Hannibal huffed, caught out of breath in an awkward position with one knee on the front edge of the seat. Will let go of the silk with a nervous laugh, hoping Hannibal wouldn’t decide car sex was too indecorous for a man like him, and said, “Sorry!”

Thankfully, the shimmer in Hannibal’s eyes was more puckish than pained, and soon the man was in the car completely, kneeling in the footwell between Will’s legs. He pulled the door closed behind him and locked them all—just in case someone might want to join, Will thought with no small delight—before running his hands up Will’s calves. He slipped his hands under Will’s knees and pressed his legs up into Will’s chest, reclaiming the edge of the seat for himself and resting his knees against the soft leather.

“In the door,” Will said, glancing in that direction as he held his thighs close to his chest.

Hannibal rifled through the side pocket, through the maps and napkins and a collection of condiment packets that he’d told Will was frankly embarrassing only a few hours earlier. But he found the small bottle of lube and a foil-wrapped condom just before Will nearly demanded he didn’t need any of it.

“I like a man who can plan ahead,” Hannibal said as he quickly rolled the condom onto himself and then flipped open the lid of the lube bottle.

Will wanted desperately to wrap a hand around his own cock and stroke himself just to relieve some of the tension building in the small of his back, but he was too afraid to release his legs and accidentally kick his partner. So instead he said, the tension clear in his voice, “Yes, I know you like me. But please, Hannibal, fuck me before I decide this was a bad idea.”

There were new aches—better ones by far—as Hannibal coated his fingers in lube and pressed against Will’s entrance until one slid in to the second knuckle. Will’s moan came out breathy, and his hands began to slip on the backs of his thighs, so he clenched his core hard and in turn clenched around Hannibal’s fingers as he changed his grip to hold his knees now, pulling them closer to his chest to give Hannibal as much space as possible. As he relaxed into his new position, or tried to, another finger joined the first, and Will threw his head back until he hit the headrest and was staring up at the ceiling of the car.

Just as Hannibal’s fingers began to scissor inside him, stretching him open with a level of care that was nothing short of infuriating at the moment, Will heard the crunch of tires on gravel, and he gasped, trying to press himself into the seat of the car. Out the window, he could see a pair of cyclists pausing at the edge of the road, chatting with each other as they drank from their water bottles.

Hannibal looked, too, but it didn’t keep him from pumping his fingers in and out of Will, adding more lube as he went deeper. Will’s breaths alternated between shallow pants and deep heaves that he held until his chest burned, and after he let out one of the gulps of air, he glanced down at Hannibal and said, barely louder than a whisper, “Can they see us?”

“Let them,” Hannibal said as he shifted up onto the edge of the passenger seat so he was between Will’s legs and hovered over him. Reaching down to take Will’s cock in his hand, Hannibal bent over to kiss him. His legs couldn’t bend quite that way, so Will slipped his calves over Hannibal’s shoulders, about where the wrinkles from his suspenders were, and used his hands’ newfound freedom to hold Hannibal’s face and keep him close, at least partly because he hoped that way no one looking in would know what they were doing.

If he didn’t have his lover’s hands on him, and if he wasn’t so turned on he might faint, Will would have taken a page from Hannibal’s book and gone on a long tangent about indecent exposure and the illegal nature of public car sex. But he figured, as Hannibal stroked his cock with a twist of the wrist, that car sex in a closed garage wouldn’t be nearly as thrilling, although it would certainly be as awkward and uncomfortable. So perhaps the scales tipped in favor of risking it.

As they kissed, Will kept glancing out the corner of his eye at the cyclists, who kept talking, apparently clueless. A car passed on the road behind them, and Will was of half a mind to roll down the Bentley’s window and tell them to get going so he could get fucked without worrying about anyone calling the police on them. Because _that_ would make for an awkward call to Jack, and it would probably disrupt the budgets if the Bureau had to fork out for their indecent exposure tickets. He had put money on Jack getting bonuses, and hell if he was going to let Beverly win that one. But finally, without any intervention necessary, the cyclists put their water bottles away and looked both ways before pedaling off down the road and leaving Will and Hannibal blessedly alone.

Will let all the tension in his body go, melting into the leather seat and slipping one hand between their chests to wrap his fingers around Hannibal’s at his cock. Dropping his chin to break the kiss, Will said, “Get inside me. Now.”

A huffing laugh warmed the shell of Will’s ear, and Hannibal sat back with Will’s legs still over his shoulders, saying, “Impatient boys become hasty men.”

“Please. Hannibal,” Will begged, brushing his thumb over the head of his own cock as Hannibal withdrew his fingers from his body. Instead of lubing himself up and immediately plunging into him, Hannibal paused to pull Will’s right foot down in front of his face, wrapping his lips around the big toe. Will bit back a pang of stunned arousal, stroking himself but mostly feeling the warmth of Hannibal’s tongue at his foot, the careful scrape of teeth, the tourniquet of lips. Will’s hips bucked up into his hand, and he reached down to brush his fingertips across the top of Hannibal’s thigh as he repeated his plea.

Finally Hannibal took mercy on him, releasing his foot with one final swipe of his tongue up the pad of his toe. Will let his leg fall across Hannibal’s shoulder again, although with a little more weight than before. His wet toe was colder than the rest of him now, and it made him shiver as he watched Hannibal pour more lube into his palm and stroke himself. Shifting his hips up as much as he could, Will moaned as his lover aligned his cock and slowly sank into him.

He’d taken Hannibal inside him countless times, sometimes even in a position that approximated this one, and yet Will was convinced then, as Hannibal bottomed out, that there was nothing more fantastically erotic than getting fucked in the passenger seat of an exorbitantly expensive car parked in the middle of nowhere next to a tiny river. Of course, he had once held the exact same opinion of getting fucked against the cold door of a double wide refrigerator. Or getting head in a stall at an FBI men’s room. And before that, it had been making out in Hannibal’s office, pressed up against the ladder to the mezzanine bookshelves. And he was sure that, eventually, even car sex would be eclipsed. But for now, Will reveled in the pure thrill of it.

When Hannibal pulled his hips back, Will went with him part of the way, until he could rest his feet on the dashboard again and feel the fine leather under his toes. It wouldn’t be the smell of feet Hannibal needed to worry about getting trapped in the material now, Will thought with a grin.

Hannibal was taking too long to thrust back into him, instead staring down at Will with an intense adoration that, even in more than a year together, still made Will somewhat nervous. Will bit his lip, tightening his grip on his own cock as it twitched pleasantly, and said, “What?”

“Next time we take the Volvo.”

Will couldn’t help but laugh, reaching out with his free hand to grab Hannibal’s tie at the knot and yank his lover into him and onto him. Halfway through a sloppy kiss that was punctuated by moans and the slap of skin against skin against leather, Will began to grind his hips up into Hannibal’s, pushing his lover deeper into him and using his legs to hold him close.

His orgasm was close, hovering somewhere between the stretching ache in his lower back and the strained burn in his abdominals. Moaning loud enough he was almost certain he could be heard outside the car, Will jerked his cock in time with Hannibal’s thrusts, catching lips and tongue with teeth and breathless pleas for release.

Hannibal’s cock brushed across his prostate for the first time in this position, and Will nearly howled with pleasure, glancing into the rearview mirror to see himself flushed, sweating, and open-mouthed. The back of his lover’s head blocked the rest of his view, and Will made a mental note that next time they tried this—in the Volvo, of course—that he should adjust the mirrors first for the best angles. But for now, as Hannibal repeated that stroke that just about undid him, Will contented himself with watching his partner’s face in the peak of their intimacy. The wrinkles around his eyes were deeper than Will remembered, but his lips were dark with color and glossy, and his hair fell so perfectly across his forehead, just gracing the ridge of his cheekbones, and Will could just see a small tuft of chest hair escaping between the straining buttons of Hannibal’s shirt.

Without a doubt, he was the most handsome man Will had ever had the pleasure of seeing, and he considered himself nothing but lucky to be able to see him this close.

Voice cracking as he cried out, Will clenched down and came hard, spilling between them, but mostly on his own flannel shirt. It would probably stain, but it was nothing that couldn’t be explained away by condiment packets and washed away with lavender oil.

A low, animalistic grunt came from Hannibal’s lips and resonated in Will’s chest, and he clutched at the back his lover’s neck as Hannibal’s thrusts sped up. He faltered in his rhythm before seating himself deep inside Will and finishing with a heavy sigh that rose the hairs at the back of Will’s neck. Will couldn’t help but hold him close, grind down on him once more, as warmth spread through him from the inside.

It was a good thing, Will realized in his moment of post-orgasm clarity, that he’d brought condoms, or else he’d have to worry about not staining the leather seat with Hannibal’s come for the rest of the drive. A secondary impulse was to glance at the clock, which was a mistake. From this outing and a few earlier stops for gas or snacks or bathrooms, they were more than an hour behind schedule and wouldn’t make it to Chicago much before dinnertime. Jack wouldn’t be happy, although it was entirely likely that he wouldn’t be happy even if they got there an hour before schedule. Unless, Will thought, “What’s your favorite restaurant in Chicago? We should treat Jack.”

“Don’t talk about Jack, Will.” The murmur was warm against his throat, and Will figured it was probably a fair enough point. So he let his mind go hazy, something Hannibal had taught him to do on command, and let himself enjoy the feeling of his partner’s weight on top of him, and the stretch of Hannibal inside him, and the knowledge that he’d won some phenomenal lottery of life, even if by defiance alone. Maybe it was less of winning and more of taking. Hunting. Will didn’t think it mattered how he justified it, as long as some days were like this one.

They laid there, curled in the passenger seat of the Bentley, until Will’s phone rang. He let it go to voicemail, but finally said, “I can drive a while if you want.”

Hannibal pulled back with a heaving sigh that was followed by a chaste kiss. Glancing out the window toward the road—which Will mimicked, happy to find that they were completely alone—Hannibal unlocked the doors and opened the passenger side, clambering out with the least amount of grace Will thought he’d ever seen in his lover. Snickering, Will raised the back of his seat and grabbed a handful of napkins from the door’s side pocket. He wiped himself down, trying to clean up the worst of the mess, and then handed the rest to Hannibal, who skillfully removed and tied off the condom.

As Will began tugging on his chinos, Hannibal tucked his shirt into his trousers, saying, “If it keeps your feet off the dashboard, you are more than welcome to drive.”

“Seems to me like you rather enjoy my feet,” Will teased as he pulled his socks on and slid his feet back into his boots. He laced them up loosely—just in case they needed to come off again on short notice, he thought with an aftershock of pleasure—and stepped out of the car onto the gravel. His legs, gummy and aching, gave a wobble, and Hannibal reached out immediately to steady him.

“I enjoy all of you, Will.”

The flush that had begun to subside flared up again, and Will bit back a smug grin as he helped Hannibal pull the straps of his suspenders back over his shoulders and button them in place. Ducking back into the car to grab his lover’s vest and coat, Will said, “Just wait until I start doing 90 in your Bentley.”

Hannibal gave him a warning look, which Will took precisely as the dare it was.

After going up on his tiptoes to kiss him once, Will darted around the car and slid into the driver’s seat, finding the key waiting for him in the cupholder. He turned the ignition and the car came to life, and as he adjusted the mirrors, Will glanced at Hannibal and said, “Your tie’s crooked.” Leaning across the center console, he helped align the knot just beneath Hannibal’s Adam’s apple, pressing a series of kisses along the edge of his lover’s jaw.

“Once per stop, Will. That’s the new rule.”

Sitting back with a laugh, Will said, “Buckle up, Mr. Once Per Stop. We’ve got ground to cover and stops to make.” Will took his own advice, clicking his seatbelt into place, before shifting the Bentley into gear and driving up to the road with a lurch.

An hour down the road, after another extended conversation about crops—now with the history of agriculture in civilization and the use of manure as fertilizer—Will signaled for an exit and glanced at Hannibal, saying, “I have to piss. For real this time.”

Hannibal’s usual half smirk revealed a snaggletoothed amusement. “So this is what became of the boy who cried wolf.”

Before Will could respond, his phone rang again, and he felt obligated to answer it this time. As soon as he took the call, Jack began pestering him for an estimated time of arrival and his approximate location. Will let Jack ramble until he whipped into a gas station, at which point he said, “Sorry, Jack. I’m about to burst. I’ll call you back later. We’re getting closer every minute.” The look Hannibal gave him was somewhere between sweet exasperation and skepticism, and Will quickly corrected himself: “Well, most minutes, at least.” He hung up before Jack could complain and cut the engine, tossing the keys back to Hannibal as he jumped out of the car.

“I suppose we do owe him dinner,” Hannibal said as Will began to bounce on the balls of his feet.

Once his lover got out of the car, Will said, “Come on, old man. I can’t hold it much longer.”

Hannibal gestured with a flick of his wrist for Will to go ahead of him. Pausing only long enough to kiss Hannibal’s cheek, Will turned and darted off for the gas station bathroom, still feeling the memory of aches in his back and legs. The bell on the gas station door tinkled, and Will suddenly started to hope that the bed in whatever budget hotel Jack put them in was soft and warm and at least marginally more comfortable than the cramped front seat of Hannibal’s Bentley.

Or, barring that, he figured, there were more positions to try in the meantime. It was a good thing, then, that they had an hour and a half to Chicago, and then, when all was said and done, another eleven or twelve back to Baltimore.

**Author's Note:**

> [on twitter <3](https://twitter.com/supernovamare)


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